


How bad can it be?

by coppercaps



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, F/M, Menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: “Girls get that shit every month, how bad can it be?”





	How bad can it be?

**Author's Note:**

> A period fic, inspired by real-life events. I wrote this with a certain cause of the situation in mind but I refrained from naming it as it could be triggering to some people and isn’t strictly necessary for the plot. Feel free to drop me a message on my tumblr (coppercaps.tumblr.com) if you’re curious about it.  
Also, I challenged myself to writing the reader in third person + avoiding “Y/N”, so feedback on this (and in general) is much appreciated!

Knives. Long, thick knives, coated in alcohol and set alight with fire, slowly, ever so slowly, pushing, pressing, parting skin and flesh until all resistance was gone. Then retreating, just to start all over again.  
She buried herself deeper in the two blankets surrounding her, her knees coming a little closer to her chest in a futile attempt to get more comfortable and relief at least some of the stabbing pain from the constant ache in her lower body.  
Footsteps, wooden panels creaking under the weight of a body.  
Heavy eyelids opened to reveal a glassy gaze that stared straight ahead and followed, albeit slightly unfocused, the pair of denim clad legs that approached her form.

“Made ye a hot-water bottle an’ tea. Ye gotta drink, lass”, encouraged the man while setting down a simple black cup containing the steaming drink on the nightstand, close to the edge so she wouldn’t have to move around more than necessary in order to reach it.  
The thick mattress gave way under the weight of his body as he laid next to her, coming as close as her bent legs allowed. Carefully, he snuck his right hand holding the fluffily wrapped bottle under the two layers of duvets he had piled upon his Old Lady to place the warm pad where he knew the source of her discomfort was located.  
  
“I don’ wanna drink…”, she whispered, but inched forward a bit to nudge the tip of her nose against his in silent gratitude for the caring gesture.  
  
Once certain that the bottle was snugly placed against her lower abdomen, he raised his heated fingers up to her face and gently stroked over one half-covered cheek. Chibs understood that this month seems to have cursed his love with a particularly nasty case of period pain, however, the not-so-old traces of tears he found on her pale skin did sent a sharp pang of worry through his guts.  
  
“Hasn’t been that bad in a long time. Do ye kno’ why it’s back?”  
A slow shake of a head.  
“Stress maybe. Only had my period for one day last month.”  
“Ye thinkin’ yer body wanted ta save the trouble an’ make it double this month?”, Chibs questioned, raising an amused huff from his lover at the Pokemon reference.  
  
In the back of her mind, she made a note to question her Old Man about the circumstances that led to him watching Pokemon on TV later. Abel seemed to be the most logical reason for that situation to have arisen, however, the mere thought of a bunch of bikers watching a kid’s show was just too good not to ask about details.  
A voiceless groan interrupted the reply she wanted to give as another wave of pain washed over her, her face scrunching up and being buried into the soft blankets in an attempt to hide from how much her muscles protested at how tightly this particular cramp had them strung. The strong arms snaking around her body and pulling her form into his welcoming warm one couldn’t relief the pain but at least made her feel a little protected and cared for.  
  
“Breathe, my love”, the Scot whispered close to her ear, trying to encourage her to let go of the breath she most likely didn’t realize she was holding.  
  
One hand came up to gently caress the exposed skin at her neck and only then did he realize how clammy her skin was. Her body shifted slightly when the tension in her muscles finally ebbed away and just when he wanted to voice his concern, the shrill ring of the doorbell had his attention snap away from the pained woman in his arms.  
  
“Tha’ gotta be Tig”, he announced while carefully unwrapping himself from the body he held.  
“What does he want?”  
“We have ta talk ‘bout some club affairs. It can wait tho’, I’ll tell ‘im ta come back tomorrow.”  
“No, do your thing. I’ll be ok here.”  
“No, yer not, lass. Let yer man take care o’ ya.”  
  
Chibs wasn’t sure whether the noise that followed his not-so-debatable offer was one of refusal or approval as two more rings drowned it out, having him turn around and shout a heavily accented “Comin’, ye bastard!” as he quickly made his way into the hallway and towards the door to open it.  
  
“Took you long enough!”, Tig said as he casually let himself in and headed straight for the nearby fridge in the open kitchen space. “Lemme tell ya Chibs, all this paperwork stuff, I really don’t-“  
“Have ta think ‘bout it today. We gotta do it some day else”, Chibs interrupted, watching the annoyed man in front of him changing the look on his face from exasperated suffering to blankness.  
“Why? You do know that I turned down a hot date with Venus so we can get this shit done?”  
“I know an’ I’m sorry. But my lady isn’t doin’ well an’ she needs me.”  
“What’s wrong with her? She sick?”, the brown-haired man questioned with a hint of worry in his voice.“Nah. It’s…”, Chibs replied, struggling for the right words to make Tig accept the situation and leave it at that. “It’s that time of tha month.”  
“So? Girls get that shit every month, how bad can it be? Have her smoke some weed and she’ll be ok.”  
The Scot sighed deeply, annoyed at the lack of sympathy of his VP.  
“Come on, Chibbie. It’s not like you can actually do anything, right? Let her get some sleep and we finish this bullshit so we can get RedWoody straight.”  
  
The black haired man sighed once again at that, not knowing what to say. Tig was right to some degree. There wasn’t anything he could do for his girlfriend to make her pain go away, and wrapping up all Jax left behind to get the club’s sources of income straight did have a high priority. But on the other hand, seeing his love in pain made it impossible for him to sit still and go through boring and complicated paperwork while making reasonable decisions when all he wanted to do was to be there for her, hold her and talk to her, until, hopefully, something can be done to alleviate her suffering.  
  
Another, louder and more irritated, sigh left the Scot’s lips.  
“I’ll talk ta her an’ let her decide”, he declared, passing the VP who was now leaning against the kitchen counter, fumbling with a bottle of beer.  
“Let me know if I have to call a prospect to bring over some of the good stuff!”  
“Tha’ won’t be necessary”, murmured Chibs while making his way back to the bedroom.  
  
He opened the ajar door as quietly as possible, peeking inside first to check whether the woman in question was awake. Somewhere inside his mind, he hoped that some godly being or mother nature herself had granted her a break while he had been away and that she had fallen asleep.  
But things seem to have gotten worse instead.  
A steady flow of tears streamed down her face, quivering lips parted to free shallow breaths she rapidly pressed out of her lungs.  
“Shit, baby…”, Chibs cursed, closing the distance between them in big, quick strides to sit next to her on the bed. “Is it tha’ bad? Tell me what yer feelin’ ”, he demanded while instinctively reaching for her neck to feel for her pulse.  
  
If he hadn’t been concerned already, the sheer speed with which the fragile artery was pounding against the tips of his fingers would have his stomach clenching in stress by now.  
A slurred “hurts” was the only answer he received.  
  
There’d been bad periods before, with days spent on the bathroom floor as the pain of each cramp had her vomiting, bleedings so bad that she felt too dizzy to walk, and, occasionally, periods that just weren’t there, having the two of them worried about ripped condoms and failed contraceptives. It had been weird for Chibs, at first, being there for her when he wasn’t just helpless but also didn’t know what to do with the situation in general. He understood the pain of bruises and cuts, gunshot wounds and broken bones, but a woman on her period? That had been so far out of his comfort zone that, in hindsight, he almost felt guilty about how awkwardly he had behaved the first time around, considering that he’s had a woman in his life before.  
However, over the course of their relationship, he had slowly began to understand his Old Lady’s needs and the way her body ticked. Had found out about hot-water bottles and which spots to knead when her back ached, the best ice cream for cravings and which topics to avoid when the line between her needing to be held and wanting to shoot whoever was in sight was paper thin.  
  
So he knew that this wasn’t normal. And he knew that he needed to do something.  
  
“Darlin’, lemme see ”, Chibs whispered, gingerly removing the blankets that covered her body.  
With a silent apology at her quietly moaned discomfort, he moved her legs into more of a straight position to gain access to her stomach. Unsure of what he expects to see, he pulled down the waistband of her sweatpants and pushed up the hem of the shirt he had borrowed her by a couple of inches. Carefully, as if he could break her by applying too much pressure on her skin, he laid his hand on the swell of her lower belly – and froze.  
  
“Love, I need ye ta lay on yer back, can ye do tha’ fo’ me?”  
It took her a few seconds to comply and roll from her right side on her back, her every limb feeling too heavy and every muscle screaming in protest at the effort. Gravity took care of the last movement, having her fall onto the cooler spot of the bedsheet.  
Ever so lightly, Chibs applied pressure on her lower abdomen once again and a fresh wave of tears rushed down her cheeks at the stabbing pain that threatened to tear her apart.  
  
“Tig!”, he shouted, the urgency in his voice unmistakeable.  
“Changed your mind on the- oh, hey, what am I seeing here?”, came the response from the older man upon entering the room.  
It took him less than a second to join his President at the bedside, his beer set aside next to the cup of untouched tea.  
“Honey, you in that much pain?”, he asked as he leant down to stroke over the hair of the Old Lady in front of him.  
“Call an ambulance. Her stomach is hard as a rock, this ain’t normal”, Chibs pressed, his voice heavy with worry.  
The other jumped into action right away, leaving the room to make the call.  
  
Tired eyes followed the Scot’s movements as he put her clothes back into place. Below the stabbing pain that physically shook her body again and again, coming and going like aggressive waves hitting unyielding rocks, it became increasingly difficult for her to follow her man’s actions. She didn’t know what exactly he was doing, but suddenly, the pain seemed to slow down and left a fuzzy, tingling feeling instead that slowly spread from the tips of her fingers and toes to fill her entire body. Her head felt like it was filled with cotton, a heavy fog that drowned out the sounds of quiet Gaelic curses.  
Somewhere on the edge of her consciousness, she registered a harsh sound. Like someone shouting, something, somewhere, not aggressively, but urgently. A hand on her cheek had her open heavy eyelids she hadn’t realized she had allowed to fall.  
  
The sight of Chibs leaning over her pulled the corners of her lips upwards, a relieved, innocent smile that didn’t register the tension in his features or the sound that he surely created with how fast his mouth was working, spilling words that seemed to get lost in nothingness on the way from him to her.  
Exhaustion crashed upon her and she allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment, so she could regain a little strength from the darkness to look up once again and see the man she loved so dearly, who did so much for her.  
But she didn’t open her eyes again. She didn’t register worried shouts or strong hands lifting her, didn’t see salt and pepper hair, a thin, fading scar or chocolate brown eyes.  
Instead, the world remained black.


End file.
